Emerald Seas Upon My Finger
by spikeismyvampirelover
Summary: A tiny emerald ocean captured in stone, the only link to the father she never knew. The first installment in The Legacy Trilogy.  Pirates of the Caribbean, Sparrabeth and OC Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: Psh. Yeah, I totally own Pirates of the Caribbean. Heck, I pwn Pirates of the Caribbean...not.**

**A/N: A little fluffy oneshot plot bunny that hopped into my brain when I tried to sleep. Being the dedicated writer that I am (yeah, right) I jotted it down. Please comment and let me know what you think about it!.**

**ooOoo**

I never knew my father.

Nothing about his identity, position, or life ever escaped my mother's lips. No, the only clue was the occasional ghost of a smile and twinkle in her eye when I knew she thought of him.

In the dawn of my thirteen year, I was given a ring by my mother. The one ring, the one piece of jewelry she'd never sold to support us, wearing it upon her left leech finger for as long as my memory reached. I had thought it rather ugly, crude silver skulls adorning the band that held the single emerald. Truth be told, I hated that ring. It represented a part of my mother's life I had never known, some intrinsic, invisible connection between my parents that I could not grasp. Yet it remained the only link to my father, and I felt burdened to treasure it.

I'd long given up my childish daydreams of my father's return. Visions of my rushing into his warm embrace, seeing that special smile that so rarely lit my mother's face. Yet I knew he would never come, and I knew that my mother knew, though she was loathe to claim it as such. She would stare at the horizon when she thought no one was watching, humming a nameless tune, an occasional tear escaping her iron facade and sliding down her creamy cheeks. "One day." she told me, "One day, he will come. You will see black sails on that horizon." But as each day passed, leaving me fatherless and the horizon a blank canvas, I felt my hope drain away droplet by droplet.

My fifteenth year came and passed, my hope had long been absent. My mother's, however, was a flame still flickering with life, however dim. One day, she'd found a rum bottle left upon our doorstep by a messenger. The note inside, blank, but for a crude sketch of a sparrow in flight over stormy seas. That simple drawing brought color to my mother's pale cheeks. "Mum?" "He's coming, darling."

I never believed her.

I came home late one evening in the summer of my sixteenth year to find the house dark and barren and my mother's door locked, light and whispered conversation leaking though the floorboard cracks. "Why didn't you come for me?", my mother's voice. "Why didn't you look for me?", the stranger.

"Because of Alice."

"Alice?"

"Yes."

"Where?" How could that single word uttered from his lips possess so much feeling; longing, amazement, and I dared hope, love?

The door swung open on its hinges to reveal my mother curled upon her sofa and a strange man standing before me. The briefest of eye contact sent a jolt though me like none I'd ever experienced, for I could have been gazing into a mirror. His eyes were my own. The deepest of chocolate, sparkling with intelligence, wit and mischief, golden flecks lining the inky irises, those pools of blackness that seemed fathoms deep. Tearing my gaze from his, my eyes fell upon his dirty and tarred hands. It was then that I saw the ring upon his finger. A replica of mine. A tiny emerald ocean, captured in stone and resting upon his long finger. How could I have ever thought it ugly? In that instant, I knew who this man was.

"Alice?" he whispered. I could only nod. A gut wrenching agony seemed to fill my body, I could not move, yet I felt my heart would burst if I did not. In the next moment, all the dreams of my childhood sprung to fruitation before my eyes. I was warm, I was safe, I was _whole_. No words needed to be said, we simply enjoyed each other's embrace as our hearts connected and our tears mingled.

I stole a glance at my mother, here eyes were also glassy with tears, beaming a watery smile.

"Let me look at you, love." I was held at arm's length as we surveyed each other, wanting to drink in every detail, to consume it, to never forget. We were so alike. Our warm tanned skin, our eyes, our dark unruly hair. He looked to my mother.

"Ready to go, Lizzie-love? I'll not let you stay behind this time."

"Yes, Jack."

And with that, my father took our arms and led us towards our new life. I knew not where our path let, but that my journey was only begining.

**ooOoo**

**A/N: Beautiful, horrible? Let me know! **


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